


Left Behind

by Secretmonkey



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: All Karma All The Time, F/F, F/M, Karma and Reagan friends, Karma moving on, Karma's summer alone, companion piece to Work in Progress, not Karmy, not Reamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5156423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretmonkey/pseuds/Secretmonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy and Lauren have left for the summer (see Work in Progress) leaving Karma behind. How will she handle a summer without her 'other half'?  A developing friendship with Reagan, working with Shane, and a possible new guy in her life should make for an interesting three months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to Normal

__

His name is Auggie and he helps Karma survive what she once would have thought was unsurvivable - a summer without Amy.

Or, at least the first week of it.

She meets him on the fourth day of lifeguard training. It's the first day she's managed to be paired with someone other than Shane and she's been waiting for this day, for this chance. It's got nothing to do with Auggie or even with Shane. It's all about her.

And by all about her, Karma totally means all about Amy.  _That_  her.

See,  _that_ her left.  _That_  her drove off in a bus with Lauren and a bunch of beefy looking guys and some girls in skimpy outfits and one with green hair and - again -  _Lauren_. That her did something the Amy Karma knows would never do and that, more than anything, has informed every single thing Karma has done since she and Reagan hid behind the tree and watched the bus pull away.

It's simple logic, really. Basic common sense.

If  _that_  her can do it, then so can Karma.

Even if, right now, she's got less than no idea how.

Enter Auggie.

And really, that's not fair, that's putting too much one guy, one guy she barely knows and isn't even sure she wants to. Because it  _isn't_ about Auggie, not at all. It's about Karma doing something different.

_The track is just an endless loop…_

Yeah. Different is good. Different is great.

Different is a must.

So a chance to be with - to  _work with_

(a relationship or an arrangement like she had with Liam or even a date is about the farthest thing from Karma's mind, no matter what kind of suggestive eyebrow wiggling Shane shoots at her when he sees her with Auggie)

someone else, someone she doesn't have a metric fuck-ton of baggage with is just the sort of different Karma thinks she needs.

And isn't that she doesn't like Shane or that, somehow, they haven't managed to actually get along for the last three days like the friends they're supposed to be. "Maybe," Shane says as he drops her off after their second day of training and a surprisingly enjoyable dinner out, "we just needed to spend a little time together."

Karma nods, as if it makes all the sense in the world. But, really, she thinks (when she bothers to think about it which, truthfully, is probably more than she should) that it probably has a lot less to do with them being together and a lot more to do with who  _isn't_  there.

Liam's gone off to find his dad and get over her (and probably  _under_ Zita and that bothers Karma a lot less than she thought it might). And Amy's gone off to, as Shane puts it (and makes her snort rootbeer out her nose) 'explode pussies'  _and_  get over her.

(And if Karma doesn't spend too much of her time wondering just why it is  _everyone_  feels the need to get over her and why they have to  _leave fucking town_  to do it, well that's kinda understandable.)

So she spends the time, gratefully, with Shane and doesn't mind, which isn't  _all_  that surprising since she's never had half the problem with him that he's had with her. Which, when she thinks about it (and she really tries not to) is odd, given that most of their problems are his fault.

"You outed me twice," she says on the third day of training, during their brief lunch break.

"Once," Shane says. He's leaning against a tree just outside the pool's fenceline, and she's leaning against him, sort of, her shoulder pressed against his but only because it's a skinny fucking tree and he's hogging the whole damn thing. "I only outed you once."

Karma shakes her head and sits up, staring at him resolutely. "Twice," she says. "First you told everyone I was a lesbian."

"An honest mistake," Shane says. "And an understandable one what with the way you and Am…"

He trails off realizing he's violating their unspoken agreement which is, basically, only one thing.

The first rule of lifeguard club? Don't talk about lifeguard club.

And by lifeguard club, they totally mean Amy.

Karma rolls on, ignoring him (or, for the sake of their  _very_  new and  _very_  fragile little friendship, pretending to). "And second," she says, "you told Liam I wasn't."

She's never been sure which of those she's been more pissed at Shane for, but then she's also never been sure which of them she bears more responsibility for and so, maybe, she thinks it's better to let that be a whole river's worth of water under some very big, Brooklyn sized bridges.

"He's my best friend," Shane says quietly and as oblivious as Karma can be, even she picks up on the subtext.  _I_ had  _to tell him. My secret or not, I_ had  _to._

"I know," she says. "He's… lucky like that."

They sit there for a moment, the two of them, in the shade of that one skinny tree and then the trainer blows the whistle and Shane stands, offering her a hand up that she takes. They head back inside and the names Liam and… the other one… aren't spoken again.

And so maybe they're making some progress but, let's be real, there's still enough baggage there to fill the hold of the Titanic and Karma would just as soon not spend her summer sorting through it all. Which is why there's a certain sense of relief

(and nervousness that's really bordering on outright panic)

when, on the fourth day of training, Shane is late and Karma finds herself paired with someone else.

"Hi", he says, holding out a hand

(a hand attached to a very well defined arm that leads up to a  _very_  well defined shoulder and chest and no. No. No. No. Not going  _there_.)

"My name's Auggie," he says - and Karma is incredibly relieved that his voice is so… normal… not like someone putting on fancy airs or trying to hide an accent

(not that she knows anyone like that)

and she's almost drawn in, almost put at ease. And then… "You're Karma, right?"

She's pleased, a little bit, that he actually knows who she is but that pleased feeling is quickly replaced, flushed away by a slowly (or not so slowly) spreading panic because  _he knows who she is_.

Karma, the fake lesbian. Karma, the daughter of drug dealers. Karma, the girl who danced on a table and let guys take shots off her.

He knows who she is. But the questions is… who does he know?

Karma does a quick scan of his face, especially his lips, trying to remember. He's got a pretty good bit of stubble going and not the 'I just didn't shave this morning' kinda thing, more like the 'carefully maintained to  _look_  like I just didn't shave this morning' kinda thing and she doesn't remember feeling anything like that when those guys… and their faces… and… oh…

(She thinks she might be sick.)

(And then she sees his hand and his smile and he's just waiting for her and no…  _different…_ different is a must and different is  _not_  puking.)

"Yeah," she says, taking his hand and hoping the word comes out sounding slightly less slurred than it  _feels_ , "have we met?"

"I think you sat in front of me in math, didn't you?" Auggie asks and Karma blinks and then smiles, a bloom of relief bursting in her chest.

"Math? Um… yeah, I think," she says, though right now thinking is about the last thing she's really capable of doing. "Fourth period? Mrs. Henshaw?"

Auggie nods and Karma smiles, grateful that she got that one right and that, just maybe, the only thing he knows about her is how annoying it is when her hair falls on his desk and that she sucks at trig.

"I guess we're partners today," he says, neither of them seeming to notice that he's still holding her hand. "Unless you wanted to wait for Shane…?"

There's a hint of something in his voice - something Karma thinks

(hopes)

might be hope, the hope that maybe she'll say "No, that's fine. I think Shane's getting sick of me anyway," and so that  _is_  what she says and there's that smile again, bright and open and full of teeth.

"Cool," Auggie says and then "Oh," as he realizes her hand is still in his and he drops it, quickly, ducking his head in embarrassment as he leads the way over to their dummy for today's CPR lesson.

Karma's glad his back is to her. It means he can't see her blush.

(And the view isn't bad, either.)

* * *

"This is weird."

Karma stares at Reagan across the small table, the straw for her mocha-choco-chunk milkshake brushing against her lips. "It's not," she says. "It's not weird."

Reagan stares back, but - much to Karma's surprise  _and_  relief - she doesn't arch a brow.

(Karma might not have ever been all that jealous of Reagan physically - not that she'd admit, at least - but those eyebrows…)

But then, the look on the older girl's face says what her still perfectly in place eyebrows don't.

_This_ is  _weird. And you fucking know it._

"Alright," Karma concedes. "Maybe it's a little weird." She takes a long sip of her shake, the cold rushing to her brain and she squeezes her eyes shut against the pain. "But it's only as weird as we let it be," she says. "So we just  _don't_  let it be."

Reagan says nothing. She picks at her salad, spearing one cherry tomato with her fork, maybe a little more violently than need be. She glances across the table as Karma's phone blinks to life, her tinkling bells tone signalling a pair of messages.

_Auggie: I can give you a ride to the pool tomorrow, if you want._

_Shane: I can't give you a ride tomorrow. Sorry. Maybe that other guy. What was his name? Andy? Astrid? Arnold?_

Karma rolls her eyes, forgetting for a moment that Shane can't actually see her. She's regretting ever telling him about Auggie - not that there was much to tell - because she'd somehow forgotten Shane's pathological inability to  _mind his own business_.

She gets it though, she really does. Nothing would make Shane happier than to see her and Auggie hit it off, date for years, get married, have a bunch of little kids (at least one of them gay so he could be the 'guru' again) and for her to never,  _ever_  even look at Amy or Liam again in any kind of romantic sense.

And maybe it doesn't have to be with Auggie or the guy after him or the one after him but Karma has to admit it.

Shane's lifegoals for her? They don't suck.

She taps out a quick 'thanks, that would be great' to Auggie and an even quicker 'middle finger' emoji to Shane (thank God for iPhone) before turning her attention back to the Grumpy Gus across the table.

"What did we say?" she asks Reagan who just glares at her salad, as if the lettuce has personally offended her.

(And it  _is_  some sad looking Romaine but it's  _not_  Kale so, really, how bad can it be?)

She nudges Reagan's foot with her own under the table, surprising even herself with the gesture. They're friends, sort of, but they're not touchy feelie footsie under the table friends, at least not yet. "We agreed," she say, "we're going to help each other through this and not spend all our time moping and being miserable."

The key part of that, Karma knows is the ' _all_  our time.' She's been doing well, so far, keeping busy and all but she knows it's far from perfect. It's a work in progress but what do you expect for those that got left behind?

Reagan stabs at a piece of lettuce - putting it out of its misery - the plastic tines of her fork scraping against the take out container. "Easy for you to say," she mutters. "Little miss popular."

As if on cue, Karma's phone tinkles again but she ignores it. "Reagan," she says. "We've got a deal, remember?" Reagan stares at the phone and Karma knows what she's wondering and how easy it would be to just tell her but she doesn't. Not yet. "You  _promised_ ," she says.

"I was under duress," Reagan says around a bite of lettuce and tomato. "I was watching my girlfri…  _Amy_  drive off for the summer on a tour I really wanted to go on  _and_  I had just broken up with Nicole that morning." She reaches across the table and snatches Karma's shake up, taking an experimental sip.

Footsie under the table? I'll see that and raise you a shared beverage.

"Yeah? Well, I was watching my lifelong best friend drive out of town with the evil stepsister because I  _kissed her_ ," Karma says, plucking a cucumber slice from the edge of Reagan's salad.

Reagan pauses in mid-sip, pondering. She sets the shake back down on the table. "I've never run anyone out of town with my lips," she says and shrugs. "You win."

Karma shoots Reagan her dirtiest look but then her phone tinkles again and she ignores it again, though Reagan doesn't.

"It's not her," Karma says. "I haven't… heard from her."

If Reagan notices the pause - strategically placed as it was - she doesn't show it. Karma's not lying, not really. She hasn't heard  _from_ Amy. She'd tell Reagan if she had; that was another of their promises to each other, made in the shade of that tree as Lauren stared at them out the bus window.

They would tell each other if they cracked and tried to contact Amy. Or if they heard from her.

Reagan, as far as Karma knows, hasn't done either. And Karma, as she just said, hasn't heard from Amy at all.

As for the other part…

"Me either," Reagan says, shaking her head.

Karma tries really hard to not notice the sinking feeling in her stomach. A small part of her had hoped the answer would be different. She'd hoped - as much to  _her_ surprise as anyone's - that Amy would have caved and reached out. And if she had chosen Reagan to reach out to…

Chosen. That's the word, isn't it? Amy would've chosen and if she chose Reagan, well thenher feelings for Karma… they'd be… yeah…

And Reagan and Amy could get back together and then, maybe, things could get back to normal around here.

But back to normal seems to be a bit farther off than Karma would like.

"What about Nicole?" she asks Reagan. "Have you heard from  _her_?"

Reagan snorts. "You mean since she called me a fucking whore. accused me of sleeping with Amy behind her back and threw a plate full of waffles at me?"

_That_  was a fun morning.

"I doubt I'll hear from her," she says. "I don't think she's the 'be friends after the breakup' kind of ex." She drops her fork and leans back in her chair. "And that is just more proof that this," she waves a hand across the table, between them, "is fucking  _weird_. I can't be friends with one ex, I'm  _way_  too close with the other and now I'm friends with…  _you_?"

Karma nibbles on the end of her straw, a habit she's had since she was ten that used to drive Amy nuts but Karma gave up peanut butter for her, so Amy could deal with a little straw chewing.

"OK," she says. "So it's weird. Doesn't mean it's bad. Or wrong."

And yes, she sees the irony of that defense and how easily it could apply to  _so_  many parts of her life. She sees it but Amy's only been gone a week and maybe really thinking about  _that_  is just one step (or ten)  _too_  different just yet.

Karma leans back in her own chair, eyes flicking to her phone as the screen lights up. She recognizes the ring tone ( _The Bitch is Back)_ immediately and taps the screen, declining the call because Shane is the last person she wants to talk to right now, especially since she knows why he's calling.

"Hot date?" Reagan asks and there's just enough of a smile on her face and in her tone that Karma doesn't feel bad when she flips her off.

"Shane," she says. "He's a texting machine."

Reagan nods. "Yeah, Amy mentioned that," she says. "And the other one?"

Karma doesn't look up from her phone screen. "What other one?"

"Karma…"

"Reagan..."

"Fine," Reagan says, "Don't tell me." She drops her fork on the table. "I'm late for work anyway." She stands up, grabbing Karma's shake as she does. "Same time Thursday?"

Karma nods but keeps her head down.

(She doesn't want Reagan to see the smile.)

"Cool," Reagan says. She starts to head off and then stops. "Karma?"

"Yeah?" Karma raises her head, looking up at the older girl, the sunlight behind her turning her into a dark featureless shape.

"Thanks," Reagan says. "For… not letting me sink into it. It would be… easy, you know? To just text her or call her or just check in. But that would be for me and this is supposed to be for her so…" She shoves her hands in her pockets. "So, thanks."

Karma nods but Reagan's already moving, headed for her truck and her job and her life that, for the last week, hasn't included Amy but  _has_  included Karma and as many catering and DJ shifts as she can find to fill the time. It's working for her now, but for how long?

That's why they have each other.

_We'll get through this. Together._

Yeah. Together.

Karma looks down at her phone, opening her messages and scrolling through the drafts, the unsent words blinking up at her.

_I met someone. Sort of. Maybe. His name is Auggie and he's a lifeguard with me and Shane._

_Shane's not so bad. But if you ever tell him I said that I'll never speak to you again._

_I didn't mean that. I'll always speak to you. Except when you're not here._

_You're not here._

_Why aren't you here?_

_Oh. Right._

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

She flicks back a screen. The thread of messages between her and Amy. It would take her hours to scroll through them all, every one of them she saved, never once thinking they might be all she'd have left.

It's the last one that catches her eye, the last one she sent, the day Amy left. Reagan had just dropped her back at her house. They'd spent the day driving around and doing anything and nothing at all, as long as that anything and nothing had  _nothing_  to do with Amy Raudenfeld.

It was amazing, really - in an absolutely sad way - how few things the two of them could find that didn't remind them.

Reagan had just dropped her off at home and Karma was standing in front of her house, watching her drive off. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, her heart racing.

It was Amy, it  _had to be,_  she'd changed her mind, she was off the bus and on her way home and their summer

_(their_ summer)

was back on and all was right with the world and she yanked her phone and tapped the message icon and...

it was Liam.

She deleted it without reading it. And then, before she could stop herself, she opened her convo with Amy, tapped out three words and sent them, the same ones staring up at her from the phone now.

_I miss you._

There was no reply.

Karma closes her messages and locks her phone.

Yeah.

Back to normal's still a bit far off.

 


	2. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma contemplates her life without Amy and tries to do something drastic to prove that she can.

She's leaning against the door to the locker rooms, her eyes drifting over the empty pool, watching the way the early morning sun reflects on the water. It's peaceful here, this early in the morning and she's managed to convince Shane (on most days, Auggie on the few Shane has been 'busy') to come in well before class just for moments like this.

Karma hadn't realized how much quiet she  _didn't_  have in her life, not until she actually  _did_  and now she can't believe she never missed it. What with the drug bust drama with her folks and living in her backyard (a situation she still can't quite bring herself to be even a  _little_  OK with) and the Amy-Liam thing and then the Amy-Reagan thing and then the Liam-Sasha thing and the Amy-Felix thing…

She never quite saw, at least not from the inside, how  _noisy_  everyone else's things (and let's face it, they were almost  _all_  someone else's things) really were.

Amy's been gone exactly two weeks and she still hasn't replied to Karma's one ill-advised (and still secret from Shane and Reagan and still totally understandable) text. Karma's not surprised, not really. She  _was_ , at first. She feels like she went through all the stages of grief over that message in just a few hours.

Denial: Amy just didn't get the message. It must have gotten lost somewhere, out there, on the WiFi and it'll show up, randomly, like on a Tuesday a month from now, and Amy will totally get it and reply immediately, because that's what Amy does. At least that's what she does when it comes to Karma because they're soulmates and they're going to be together (in one way or another) forever.

Anger: Fuck her. Just…  _Fuck. Her._ She left. She  _left_. And now she can't even be bothered to reply to one fucking text message. Just a simple reply. Karma's not even worth  _that_  anymore, clearly, so you know what? Fuck. Her.

Then there were the few minutes (and hour and a half or so, a good hour of which she spent dialing Amy's number and then clearing it and then dialing it again and she's still amazed she didn't accidentally call at least once) when anger and denial seemed to sort of merge and Karma was sure -  _fucking sure_  - that the message had actually gotten through. It was there, sitting on Amy's phone just waiting for her to find it. But Lauren…  _of course,_ Lauren… got to it first.

Karma knew Lauren had seen them, behind the tree, hiding and watching as the bus pulled away. She could have told Amy, but  _she didn't_. She could have made them stop the bus and made Amy get off and face them, but  _she didn't_. She could have told Amy there was a text message on her phone, but  _she didn't_  and she probably  _erased_  it and that's why Amy never even sent back so much as a word in reply.

It was a messy ninety minutes and Karma doesn't like thinking about it.

After denial and anger (and denial+anger… danger? Yeah, that sounds about right.) came the next stage. Bargaining: Except Karma didn't know who to bargain with or what to offer. A promise that if Amy replied she would leave her alone for the rest of the summer? Yeah, like  _that_  would work. Promising to be the kind of friend Amy needed, if only she could hear from her, just  _once_?

If she could have done  _that_ , Karma knew, Amy wouldn't have left in the first place.

So she skipped bargaining, mostly, not wanting to make a deal or a promise she couldn't keep, not when it came to Amy, not anymore. And she threw herself headlong into depression, basically belly flopping into it. Karma had never been  _depressed_ , but she knew about  _sad_  and she knew there was a world of difference, a world she wasn't particularly interested in exploring so she settled for a good few hours of sobbing into her pillow and cursing the day she'd ever thought of faking it.

Though she didn't curse it as much as she maybe should. Because some good had come of it, right? Amy had found out who she was, or at least gotten herself on the road to doing it. And while she and Liam hadn't ended well, Karma was of the firm belief that everyone needed a first love, even one that ended poorly. And Amy and Lauren were closer and now she and Shane were getting to be friends and maybe, just maybe faking it hadn't been  _such_  a bad idea.

Rationalization was totally one of the stages, right?

Or, maybe, that was just the last stage.

Acceptance.

Amy was gone. She was coming back (Karma refused to believe otherwise) but she was gone for now. She had her journey to take and Karma had hers and while their roads would cross again, this was a time for each of them to walk alone.

Or with Lauren. Or Shane, depending on which of them you were talking about. And possibly with Reagan. And let's not forget Auggie (and, increasingly, Karma  _couldn't_ ).

Maybe not entirely  _alone_  but not with  _each other_  and that was kind of the point, the one Karma needed to accept.

So she did. Eventually. Sort of. In her own Karma-esque, 'I'm not gonna think about it or dwell on it and I'll only check my phone to see if she's replied once a day and that's as accepting as I'm getting so deal with it' way.

And if showing up at the pool a good hour before training starts and just sitting in the peace and the quiet (or as much of either of those as as anyone gets with Shane around) helps her to 'accept', then that's what she does.

Even if she does have to lock her phone in a locker and make Shane swear (to his great confusion) not to let her go check it until their day is done.

* * *

It's two weeks to the day and Karma's sitting by the pool, just her and Shane and the pair of Mocha Frappes he picked up for them on the way in.

"It's…  _different_ ," she says in between slow sips. She says 'different' but she thinks 'weird' but after her chat with Reagan a couple weeks ago, she's avoiding  _that_  word.

Even if it is weird.

"What is?" Shane says, checking his drink. "I told the guy to make them the same as last time, but he  _was_  kinda eye fucking me at the time so…"

Karma slips her shades down her nose and glares at him. " _Not_ the drinks," she says. " _This_. Being here. You. Me. It's like… it's a whole…"

Shane settles down at the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in the water. That's a no-no, but so is the coffee and he's pretty sure Karma's not ratting him out for either. "I swear, Ashcroft," he says. "If you start singing  _A Whole New World…"_ He sets his coffee down and pantomimes chucking her into the pool. "Just cause I'm gay doesn't mean I love show tunes."

Karma drops down next to him, bumping her shoulder against his. " _Aladdin_ was a movie first," she says. "And it's not a whole new  _world_." She lets one foot graze across the top of the water, watching the tiny ripples spread out from her toes. "The  _world_  is the same," she says. "It's  _us_."

She says 'us' but she  _thinks_  'me' and she doesn't know, not exactly, what to think about that.

Neither of them speaks for a bit and Karma notices, in her head, that the silence isn't… well… it's  _not_  comfortable, but it isn't  _uncomfortable_  either. It isn't like it was with Amy. They could just  _be_ in the same place at the same time and never need to say a word and both be as happy as could be.

With Amy, Karma knows, she could just start talking again, randomly, jumping into the middle of a conversation she was having with herself and Amy would pick it up without missing a beat, almost like she'd been having the same chat in her own head. She and Shane aren't like  _that_ , not yet at least, and she kinda doubts they ever will be.

They're different. And yes, a little  _weird_.

"I miss her, you know?" she says and there's that jump, that random hop into a conversation in her own mind (because  _every_  conversation in Karma's head is about Amy) and she sees Shane's head snap around out of the corner of her eye. She knows he's shocked and she sort of doesn't blame him.

In the two weeks they've been doing this… whatever this is… they've mentioned Amy twice (and by they, she means  _him_ ) and both of those were accidental. Shane knows Karma talks to Reagan about Amy and he thinks that's good  _and_  bad

(misery loves company and all but too much misery makes for bad company)

but this is the first time  _Karma_  has brought Amy up with  _him._

"I miss her," Karma says again and she's not sure why she's talking about this  _now_ , but she is and so she might as well go with it. "But it's easier than I thought it would be." She splashes her foot against the water and takes a long sip, the mocha burns against her tongue - Shane always gets them too hot - and she winces. "That's a lie," she says, taking a deep breath and letting the cool air soothe her tongue. "It's harder. So much fucking  _harder_."

Shane nods and Karma knows he understands, in a way. Amy left him too and while that's not  _quite_  the same, she knows Liam's gone too and, in so many ways, Liam is the Amy to Shane's Karma (and if that's not the most  _bizarre_  analogy ever, she doesn't know what is) and Karma knows he misses Liam almost as much as she misses Amy.

Sometimes - though not as often as a friend probably should - she thinks about asking Shane how he's holding up with that. But she's afraid that might lead to talking about Liam and as much as she doesn't (usually) want to talk about Amy?

She wants to talk about Liam even less.

"I miss her and it's hard," Karma says. "And sometimes… there's times when I don't…" The door opens behind them and a pair of the more senior trainer lifeguards come out, but they head to the deep end of the pool without even acknowledging the two rookies. "You know how people say they don't even know what to do with themselves?"

Shane nods though he's only paying half attention because one of the trainers has shucked his shirt and  _my God_ …

"That's  _me_ ," Karma says. "There's times I just sit out back of the house or, if Felix's dad isn't around, in my room and I just sit there. I don't know what to do."

Shane tunes back in and looks at her. He's known Karma for more than a year but sometimes he thinks he doesn't really know  _her_  at all. She's Amy's bff and Liam's on and off, and the girl who lied and the girl whose parents sold weed.

In the last two weeks, he's spent more time with  _Karma_  than any of  _those_  girls. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he kinda likes her and feels kinda bad for her (even if most of it is her own doing, but Shane understands - better than most - how easily your own doing can happen.)

"Sometimes," she says, staring down at the lid of her coffee cup. "I don't even know if I'm a  _person_. Like, what do I do without Amy to do it with me?"

Shane lifts his feet from the water and pulls his knees up in front of him. "You're a person, Karma," he says (and  _yes_ , he finds that as odd to say as she probably does to hear). "You two were just always oddly…  _attached_."

It's a nice way of saying codependent, overly involved,  _way_  too close and  _yes_  he knows that describes him and Liam too, but they're not talking about  _that_  right now.

"It's just gonna take some time," Shane says. "Time and adjustment and learning to… be unattached. You can't expect it to happen overnight. It's a work in progress." He pats her on the shoulder (awkwardly) and tries to be reassuring. "I'm sure Amy's as disoriented by the whole thing as you are."

Karma nods because that makes sense - all the sense in the world, really - but she doesn't buy it, not even for a second. For starters, wherever she is, Amy has Lauren. But she also has herself and Karma knows that Amy's always been the one.

The one that could survive, that could stand, that could make it on her own.

The only person who didn't believe  _that_  was Amy.

"Maybe," Shane says, "the trick isn't figuring out what you do  _without_ Amy." The trainers dive into the deep end of the pool and Shane is - momentarily - distracted by the sight of abs and thighs and incredibly defined arms in flight, sailing out over the water. "Maybe," he says, shaking his head as he watches the trainer break the surface of the water, "the trick is figuring out what  _you_  do."

Karma nods. That's deep. That's powerful. That's… " _What?"_

"Everything you've ever done has been  _with_  Amy or  _about_  Amy or  _dragged_  Amy along like she was your sidekick," Shane says. "Your plans were about making you two popular. Your dreams are about a life you two share together." He pauses for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of what he's about to say.

Pro: Maybe he gets through and helps Karma find whatever it is she's looking for.

Con: She pushes him in the pool and they spend the rest of the summer back at each other's throats.

Fuck it.

"About the only thing you've done on your own," he says, "was Liam. And you even pulled her into  _that_. Literally and metaphorically."

Shane watches as Karma's face rolls through about a thousand emotions and, as discreetly as possible, he moves his coffee cup away from the edge of the pool. If he's going in, he can at least make sure he doesn't fuck up the water too.

The two trainers are up and out of the water and Shane's eyes dart back and forth between them and Karma, them and Karma, them and Karma, his brain (look at Karma) and his…  _not_  brain (look at those legs) (and thighs) (and the ass…) waging a war for control. She follows his eyes and turns, watching as first one, then the other trainer scampers up the ladder and races off the high dive, hurtling into the air and splashing through the water below.

The locker room doors open again and the rest of their class starts to file out onto the desk, but Karma barely notices. She's only got eyes for one thing.

That thing  _she's_  gonna do.

She's gonna make that board her bitch.

* * *

Karma's first try on the high dive comes two weeks to the day after Amy leaves and it's honestly the worst moment of her life.

_At least it wasn't with Amy._

OK,  _second_  worst.

_The track is just a loop…_

OK,  _third_  worst.

_I love you too, Amy. Just not -_

OK.  _Fourth_.  _Maybe_. Top five, probably. Top  _ten_ , for sure.

And maybe it should be higher what with all the  _other_  worsts it's making her think about and  _fuck all_  she should really not be thinking about all those things (all those  _Amy_  things) when she's so high off the ground and already feeling dizzy.

Maybe, Karma thinks, in hindsight, saying she was going to make the board her bitch, even if it was only in her head? Maybe, that wasn't the  _best_  choice. She wonders, not (too) seriously, if somehow the board heard her and resented the suggestion. Logically, she knows it didn't - couldn't - but logic deserted her four rungs ago and she  _swears_  the board wasn't this high when she looked at before.

From the ground. The place she'd desperately like to be. But the only way to get  _there_  is to move and moving isn't exactly - at  _all_  - something she'll be doing any time soon, even though she knows they're all watching her. The entire class is down there (not that she can see them cause…  _down there_ ), all her fellow trainees and their instructors and they're all just staring.

Karma knows it then, in that moment, frozen on the fucking ladder. Even if she conquers the damn thing, even if she somehow makes it to the top and jumps off today (not fucking likely) or tomorrow (equally not fucking likely) or next week or… you know… sometime in 2017?

_This_  is what they'll remember.  _This_  is what will follow her around (or follow her  _and_ faking it and the drug bust and the threesome and the pool kiss and - fuck all - she's got a lot of shit tailing her) and  _this_  is going to define her.

So, it turns out,  _that's_  what  _she_ does.

She fucks up just as bad - and just as publicly - without Amy as she did with her.

"You ever have one of those dreams where you're falling, like down a flight of stairs or something?"

The voice startles her (but not nearly enough to loosen her death grip on the ladder) and she rolls her eyes in its direction, toward the smaller board next to her. "Auggie?"

"Hey," he says, grinning that Auggie grin (with all the teeth and the way the corners of his mouth actually seem to reach up to his eyes and not in the creepy way that sounds). "Fancy meeting you here."

She wants to laugh and not  _just_  because it would be the polite thing to do but because he's  _here_  and not  _down there_  and she really doesn't want him to leave her  _there_. But she just can't bring herself to do it, mostly because she's afraid to do anything that might shake her off the ladder.

And, truthfully, it wasn't that funny.

But he's  _trying_  so serious points for effort.

"Did you ever have one of those dreams?" he asks. "You know, the ones where you get that feeling in the pit of your stomach, like the weightlessness of it as you drop?"

Yes, she's had those dreams, and yes, she's had that feeling, and really? Is talking about  _falling_  and  _dropping_  and  _dying_  (and no, he didn't mention that part, but it was so  _implied_ ) really the best plan  _right fucking now_?

"And then you wake up right before you hit," Auggie says. He's standing on the board next to hers, bringing him just about eye level with her on the ladder. "I fucking  _hate_  those dreams," he says. "Know why?"

Because they make you feel like you're falling? And going to land painfully? And possibly -  _probably_  - die?

All of the above?

"They make falling seem bad," he says. "Like it's the worst and scariest thing in the whole world. The thing that will kill you."

Karma manages to turn her head toward him and there's this look in his eyes, like he knows what he's talking about. Or maybe they're just really pretty eyes and they're totally taking her mind of her own imminent doom.

"It's not?" she whispers and then clears her throat so she can fucking  _talk_. "It isn't the thing that will kill you?"

"I took swim lessons here," he says. "When I was eight. We'd just moved to town and my mother thought it would be a good way for me to meet some of the kids before school started."

Karma nods. Most of the kids from Hester took lessons here at one point or another, her and Amy included.

"You were here," he says (and there's that grin again), "in one of the other classes. You were a guppie, like me."

She rolls her eyes at the name, remembering how it was such a big deal to all the kids who was a guppie and who was a minnow and who made it all the way to trout.

"I remember you were a pretty good swimmer," Auggies says. "Or at least  _I_ thought you were, but that might have just been cause you were so noticeable. You know? The hair?"

Karma groans and leans her head against the ladder. That was the summer she convinced Molly to let her 'highlight' her hair. It was supposed to make it brighter, a little summery.

She turned out looking like a fire hydrant.

"We had to jump off this board to pass," Auggie says, nodding at the one he's standing on. "You didn't do it."

"No," Karma says. She smiles at the memory, not of her  _not_ jumping. But of Amy refusing to do it either, out of solidarity. "Amy wouldn't let me fail class alone," she says (only partially cursing herself for bringing up Amy in front of Auggie.) "She would've passed easily. She was a hell of a swimmer and if she just hadn't held herself back…"

"I remember Amy too," Auggie says. "I think it would be pretty damn hard to remember  _you_  and not  _her_." There's something in his voice that makes Karma think maybe he could and maybe he'd  _want_ to. "And I don't really know her," he says, "but I'm pretty sure Amy never once thought she was holding herself back. Not for you."

Karma blinks and lets her eyes drift (out and over his head, definitely not  _down_ ) and wishes.

She  _so_ wishes that were true.

"I didn't pass either," he says and Karma's eyes drop back to his face. "I got out on the board, took one look down and…" He laughs and it sounds so… different to Karma (not  _just_  different from Amy's). There's no hidden pain, there's no subtext of irony.

There's just a laugh.

She kinda likes it.

"I took one look down," Auggie says, "and I dropped to the board and wrapped both my legs and arms around it and I refused to move." He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. "It took two of the lifeguards ten minutes to pry me loose. And when they did… I kicked and screamed and thrashed so hard… I fell."

Karma's eyes grow wide. "Fell?"

Auggie nods. "Yeah. Right off the end of the board. Fully belly flop right into the deep end."

She winces at the thought, can almost feel the sting of the water against her chest.

"I still didn't pass," he says. "I had to retake the class the next session and when it came time to jump?"

"Lemme guess," Karma says. "You did it. Perfect dive?"

He shakes his head and grins that grin. "Fuck no. I didn't even make it up the ladder cause I remembered. That shit  _hurt_."

Karma does laugh this time and she only tightens her grip on the ladder a little bit as she shakes.

"It took me two more sessions," Auggie says. "But I did it. Finally. Just like you did."

She did. But only when they let her and Amy jump together.

"And  _that_  time, the fall didn't hurt," he says. "That's when I learned." He holds out one hand to her.

"Learned what?"

"The fall can't hurt you," he says. "Not if you don't let it."

She reaches out, slowly, and takes his hand, but then she hears  _them_ , down on the deck, watching her and she tries to pull her hand back, but Auggie won't let her.

"It can't hurt you, Karma, not if  _you_  don't let it," he says. "And them? Everyone of them is watching you and talking about you and you know what?" She looks at him, at her hand in his, out in the air between the boards. "Every one of them has their own ladder they can't climb," Auggie says. "But not every one of them has someone to help them back down."

He reaches out and she takes his other hand and then she's floating - just for a moment - and then she's on the board with him, their hands still clasped together and pressed between them.

"You were totally just flirting with me," Karma says.

Auggie shrugs. "Maybe," he says, but his eyes don't look half as confident-slash-cocky as his words sound. "Did it work?"

Karma smiles at him as lets go of his hands and takes one step back, onto the much lower and much safer ladder. "Ask me again," she says. "When we're on solid ground."

He smiles back at her - all teeth and dancing eyes - and Karma realizes she has no idea what she's doing but she's kind liking figuring it out.

Maybe  _that's_  what she does.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, yeah, I'm writing a Karma-centric story. Which will probably cause some people's heads to explode cause you know, it's me. And we all know how I feel about Karma, right? Anyhoo... this is basically the story of what happens to Karma (and Reagan and even a little Shane) when Amy and Lauren leave for the summer in my other story Work in Progress. You don't have to read both to understand either, but it might help. But I got this idea in my head thanks to a friend and couldn't shake it so... Reviews and likes and whatnot appreciated if you like it or if you hate it you can always send me a msg on tumblr :)


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